Orlesian Ball Silliness
by AmyBA
Summary: The Inquisitor attends an Orlesian ball.


If you had told her a year ago she would be attending a ball held in one of the finest chateaus in Orlais and hosted by the Empress herself, she would have scoffed at you, checked for a fever, or labeled you insane. But that was a year ago when there were no tears in sky with demons pouring out and she wasn't the leader of an Inquisition with an army at her heel. No, these days she would believe anything possible, even a Dalish mage attending a fancy ball.

She was dressed for the occasion, Vivienne and Dorian had seen to that. They spent an entire day the previous week dragging her around to various fabric shops, getting measurements and pushing, pulling and tugging her every which way. It would have gone quicker had they not been so divided on how her gown should look. Opinions became so heated that it lead to a prolonged shouting match in the middle the tailors shop. The poor clothier tried to intervene and offer his own advice, only to be completely shut down by a brief, icy gaze from Vivienne and one upheld finger from Dorian, both who had continued to argue among themselves. When they finally settled on a compromise and got their order put in with the shop owner the sun had set, the shop had closed to the public, and she was passed out on the floor near the changing room.

A day fighting abominations would have been preferable to the misery they had put her through, but she couldn't deny the end result was extravagant. The gown was full length with a basque waist, a low scoop neckline trimmed with fur and feathers, and lace bell sleeves. The fabric they chose was a black, satin vine brocade that had subtle gold accents, she found the texture of it against her skin delightful. The boots they had bought were equally as grand, but difficult to walk in and she had to resist the urge to curse with every step she took. They were calf high button ups made with black satin and lace, and had a 3 inch heel. Vivienne had said being an elf at an Orlesian ball would be difficult. She didn't want the other nobles looking down on the Inquisitor and demanded she wear a tall heel in order to meet the others face to face. The final touches to the ensemble included golden pearl earrings and a fire opal amulet on a golden rope chain that sat atop her breast. Dorian had insisted on it, saying the vibrant orange and red in the opal brought out the gold of her eyes and the crimson of her lips.

So here she stood uncomfortable and out of place amongst lords and ladies clad in their finest frippery. She watched them in amusement as they laughed and clamored in conversation, indulged themselves on the finest food and drink found this side of Thedas, and put on their best airs lest someone think they too uncultured or crude. It was enough to make a person's head spin.

A young elf serving girl approached, head and eyes cast downward, offering her a flute of champagne. She took a glass and gingerly waved the girl on, feeling a bit of unease that she was being served in such a manner by her own kin. She couldn't help but wonder what they must think of her, a fellow elf dressed in such finery mingling amongst nobles, sipping their champagne and nibbling on their cheeses.

She brought the glass to her lips and took a sip, holding it in her mouth and enjoying the sensation of liquid as it tickled her tongue. She was on her fourth serving of champagne and found herself beginning to grow fond of it. Though whether it was the quality or quantity bringing her to that conclusion she did not know.

"Such strange people these Orlesians." The sound of Solas's voice startled her, and caused her to reflexively swallow and then choke on the champagne. He had been quiet for so long she had forgotten he was there.

She coughed a bit and attempted to clear her throat. "Yes, they certainly are." She could still feel a lingering burn from where the liquid had attempted to invade her lungs.

He looked at her and gave her a timid smile. "I think I feel more comfortable in the fade. This entire thing is very foreign to me."

"It most assuredly is to me as well. I am honestly surprised you agreed to come though." She felt a bit of dampness on her lips and chin from the earlier coughing fit, and began to raise her arm in order to use her sleeve to wipe it away before catching herself in the act. She started searching the buffet near her for a napkin to use in its place.

"I have to admit I almost declined. But then I remembered what Vivienne had said, about the nobles needing to see the Elves in a position higher than peasant or servant." Solas pulled a handkerchief from his lapel pocket and handed it to her. She smiled and took it, murmuring a thank you under her breath.

"Besides," he continued. "I knew that there was no way Sera was going to get dressed up and attend."

"You were right" she chuckled. "I asked her and she laughed at me for a good 5 minutes, damn near threw up on herself." she dabbed her face with the cloth and handed it back to him. He didn't seem to know what to do with it now, and ended up just stuffing it back in the pocket.

She noticed and clicked her teeth at him. "If Dorian sees that, he is going to have a fit."

Solas shrugged. "Then he should have showed me how to fold it. I don't think it was really even meant for use which I find strange in itself, but there you have it." His expression suddenly changed to one of perplexity and she noticed something across the room had caught his eye.

She turned her gaze in the same direction. "What is it, what do you see?"

"That woman, over there, do you see?" he pointed to the far-side of the room. "Is that... on top of her head..." She caught sight of it and gasped. "Is that a bird? Is she wearing a bird as a hat?"

Sure enough, perched on top of the womans head was a large taxidermied raven, wings fully outstretched, reaching a span of 3 feet. It matched the equally as strange mask she wore, which mimicked a ravens face and beak, covered in black feathers and golden scales.

Solas tilted his head to the side, still staring in amazement. "Now that is something."

The inquisitor bit her lip, stifling a giggle. Solas noticed and began to grin. "At least they didn't try to make your wear something like that."

"Oh they wouldn't have been able to." She shook her head furiously. "I would have fought them tooth and nail if they had tried to put a bird, or any other animal for that matter, on my head!" she gulped down the rest of her champagne and felt a warmth spread across her cheeks. "Ridiculous Shems." she whispered.

She heard Solas laugh and turned her gaze back to him. "What is so funny now?"

"Ah Inquisitor, it is just the absurdity of it all. Don't mind me." He reached his hand out toward her. "Now, we got all fancied up to come here and represent the Inquisition and the Elves, and yet here we are all tucked away in a dark corner gawking at silly women in silly hats. We should probably go out and actually mingle a bit! Maybe find Empress Celene and introduce ourselves?"

She reluctantly took his hand and sighed heavily. "You are right of course, but first lets find that serving girl with the champagne, I think I am going to need a few more glasses."


End file.
